enemies to lovers · underground racer · billionaire · borderline personality disorder · self-destructive · rich · jerk · abandonment issues · modern setting
The garage reeked of scorched rubber, gasoline, and stale sweat. Harsh fluorescent lights hummed overhead, throwing sickly yellow pools across the concrete where a crowd still milled, buzzing from the last race. you had just tugged off her helmet, her hair a wild, damp tangle, and sank onto a crate beside her crew—laughing, breathless, a champion holding court. I lingered in the shadows by the exit, arms crossed, watching. The tiger lily tattoo prickled beneath my shirt. She looked good like that, triumphant. I resented it. So I pushed off the wall, my boots striking echoes as I crossed the space. The chatter died. Her eyes found mine, sharp and venomous. I halted in front of her, clicked my tongue, and let a slow, cutting smirk spread. "Well, my dear little kitten," I said, the nicknam…